No, Sir, I am Not Alright
by WriteroftheWest
Summary: There is only so much pain one's heart can take, and for Alfred, after five months of isolation and anguish, he can't take it any longer. He writes a letter. December's meeting returned to America, taking place the week before Christmas. Arthur visits several days ahead to help Alfred set up. But getting to know each other after so long is better said than done...


_A/N:_** Necessary background information you need to know before reading!** In a nutshell: Five months previously, the monthly five-day world meeting was held in America in a hotel on the West Coast near the beach. With somethings happening before hand, Alfred tries to take a several step forward with his and Arthur's relationship. With the help of Francis, Alfred is unable to let go of things that happened in Arthur's past romantic life. Eventually Alfred's jealously brings about an unfortunate turn of events and incapacitates their relationship with a brawl the local bar. Five months later, Alfred writes a letter.

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_**No, Sir, I am Not Alright**_

Arthur.

Although you can't hear my thoughts right now and have never understood, I am desperate, in every sense of the word, to get rid of this guilt, to dull this pain in my heart and to finally feel good about life once more.

It's been five months since we last talked. Five months. Wow. It doesn't seem like it. It feels more like five years since we've exchanged any meaningful words. At that time, I was certain I had my one chance to show you how much I have grown up, how much more responsible I was and what I was willing to do to get to you. I messed up big time. Even though I have tried to apologize, everyone has turned their back on me. I couldn't think of anyone else who would possibly consider my words before they would throw this letter away. So I'm writing to you. At least you will consider the content before you crumple this letter up out of rage and toss it in the trash to forget. It's a part of being a gentleman, right?

I dove head-first into things. You of all people should know by now that I've been doing that since the beginning. I rushed you – I rushed myself – into a commitment I wasn't mature enough to accept all of the responsibilities and consequences that came with my decision. I remember now. You told me in the beginning that we – I – was rushing things, trying to make something out of nothing. I was in it to win it, my heart, my head, my soul – everything. But everything started to fall apart when my selfishness and greed got to my head. I was faced with a choice and I chose wrong.

I haven't stopped thinking about you since that day. I wondered if you were okay, if you still hurt, if you were having a hard time trying to forget me and forget that day. I don't blame you. I went too far. I pushed you into something you didn't want in the first place. Things would only end up like this. It's hard to revert back to the way things were before those days. I was so excited that once I finally had you, we could get serious – marriage serious. There was no one in the world I would dream of taking as my lifelong friend and spouse than you. I wanted you to be mine forever. I wanted to be sure no one else would lay claim to you and then end up hurting you in the end. I guess I contradicted myself, didn't I?

I guess everyone has been wondering why I haven't been making it to the meetings these past couple of months. You may already know this, but I will tell you any way.

I wasn't myself after that day. For the most part, I was afraid of what I had become. The question was, when would something like that happen again? To avoid the situation, I found it to be best to stay at home for awhile and try to overcome the anxiety and fear of reliving that day in my head time and time again. I was truly afraid that the next time I was to snap like that, I would actually kill someone. The anxiety eventually left me, but it was soon replaced by depression. The longest, painful turn downhill I've ever experienced. It was worse than the Great Depression. I avoided attending meetings even though my boss begged me and begged me and begged me to attend them. But I always opted out on them. More or less I would stay at home, calling in sick and that I couldn't make it. Which wasn't entirely untrue. Every time I would think about the meeting my boss wanted me to attend, that day was the first thing that came to mind. My stomach would turn sour and I would end up sick for a few days.

It's difficult for me to look you – any of you – in the eye. I am a criminal, labeled "dangerous" and forced to wear an orange jumpsuit. They have taken my picture and saved my finger prints and they watch ever step I make. I am a killer. I am the most wanted, dead or alive. I'm not, but that's what I feel like. Ever since that day, people have looked at me like I was some criminal of sorts. I snapped once and now I'm the bad guy. But apparently not everyone thought I was a bad guy. Italy was the one who had the idea to get everyone to sign a get well card. He then gave it to you to give to me. I didn't know what to say when I first saw you on my doorstep wearing your warm, brown jacket and your green scarf with the envelope in your bare hands…

So I slammed the door in your face. Thankfully Toris had a kind heart and opened the door and invited you inside offering you something warm to drink. I avoided you. I had confidence that my mental and emotional states were fairly stable, but if I looked at you, I would fall to pieces in an instant. I sat in the other room while you and Toris sat and talked and drank tea and laughed. I guess you wondered about me despite your cheerful demeanor. It wasn't an easy battle to fight, I'll say that much.

The card was a pleasant surprise. It made me miss the chaos of the meetings as I looked at everyone's signature. As far as penmanship goes, yours was the best. Would I be right if I said you must have spent some time on it to make it look perfect?

I heard from my boss who was called by your boss who said that you would be coming over to help me set up for this upcoming meeting, the week before Christmas. I don't see why that would have to happen. But if your boss said so, there's no arguing with that.

This ends my letter to you. Feel free to throw it away as you please.

Bring warm socks.

Alfred.

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_To be continued..._


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